


Fake Royalty

by 1940spectrum



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Clarke is the daughter of a mob boss, F/M, Rich Clarke, She is kind of a mess, poor bellamy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 06:10:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1940spectrum/pseuds/1940spectrum
Summary: Bellamy happens to the meet the daughter of a notorious New York City mobster, party girl Clarke Griffin. They strike up a relationship and Bellamy is pulled into a world much different then his own, a world where rules don't exist and if you talk you get shot.





	Fake Royalty

"They call her Princess." Murphy says with a half sneer. 

Bellamy Blake's attention has been enraptured by a beautiful blonde in the VIP section of the club he and his friends are in. She's quite gorgeous, someone who is clearly attractive and knows it. At the moment she's flirting with a bartender, a smile on her face that could quite frankly move mountains. 

"So?" Bellamy drags his eyes away from the Princess and back to Murphy. 

"So?" Murphy scoffs. "I see you staring at her. I know your type. You are all over girls like her." 

Bellamy shrugs. So maybe he has a thing for blondes who like to party. Who is Murphy to crash his vibe?

"I'm serious Bellamy. They don't call her Princess without a reason." Octavia slides up beside her brother, Lincoln on her arm. "Hes' right, Bellamy. That's Clarke Griffin, the daughter of the late mobster, Jake Griffin." 

Bellamy's stomach drops a little bit, but mostly in excitement. He may be a little bit of a thrill seeker, as it were. "I'm going to go for it." He says with a grin. 

Murphy, Octavia, Lincoln, and Monty and Miller who have joined the conversation all stare at him. "You wouldn't." Octavia ventures. "You couldn't." Murphy snickers. "Princess could have anyone, you think she would go for you?" 

Bellamy takes a swig of his beer and runs a hand through his hair with a shit-eating grin. "We'll see." 

 

It takes Bellamy almost a half hour to figure out how to get into the VIP section, but when the security guards change over he manages to sneak through. The VIP area is dimly lit like the rest of the club, but it has the most beautiful red leather couches and it's own set of bartenders. There's a certain thrill and prestige Bellamy feels being inside it, which he knows is dumb but it's still true. 

Before he gets too far inside, a girl with long brown hair and a devilish red dress approaches him. "You're cute, who are you?" She says, putting a hand on his shoulder. "My name's Bellamy, Bellamy Blake." 

"And what you are doing at the VIP section, Bellamy Blake?" She has her hand in his hair and God, Bellamy knows he came here for the Princess, but damn this chick isn't bad either. 

"You know, hanging out." Bellamy says awkwardly. He wanted to say something clever but he can't quite think. These damn rich people, right? 

"Really?" The woman says, bringing him closer. "Because I don't recall seeing a Bellamy Blake on the guest list." She pulls his hair and Bellamy winces. 

"I -" 

"Whoa, Reyes, let go." A voice appears out of nowhere behind Bellamy. The woman - Reyes, apparently - lets go of Bellamy's hair with a glint in her eye. Bellamy turns around and he is face to face with the Princess herself, Clarke Griffin. 

 

"Listen, I'm sorry. I really shouldn't have snuck into the VIP section. I just thought I'd see how the other half live for a night." 

Clarke flashes him an electric smile. "No worries, Bellamy was it?" She links arms with him, and pulls him toward the couches and sits him down. "Raven is a little bit heavy-handed, she worries about me.I love her dearly, but she can be a bit much." It takes Bellamy but a moment to realize that Raven is probably Clarke's bodyguard of sorts. Maybe unofficially, but still.

"But I think if you were here to kill me you would probably at least be armed." Bellamy realizes that Clarke is still talking, and then he realizes she thinks there's even a slight possibility that he could be here to harm her. Damn. 

"No, I'm not - " 

"Like I said, I know you're not here to hurt me. I can tell you're unarmed." There's a hint of something other than friendliness behind Clarke's eyes, but in a second it's gone. "So you're not trying to kill me, Bellamy, would you like to dance?"

 

 

Before Bellamy knows it, he's grinding on the daughter of the most powerful mobster in New York, if not the country. She moves with such inhibition, such freedom, yet such grace that Bellamy finds himself more and more attracted to Clarke. 

She raises her lips to his throat and kisses up to his jawline. "I wanna fuck you, Bellamy Blake." She whispers in his ear. 

"How much have you had to drink?" He replies. Clarke grins. "Only a shot. I'm ready to roll if you are." 

 

 

The next morning Bellamy wakes up to Clarke ferociously pulling on her clothes. She pulls a loose tye-dye crop top over her bare chest and then dances into a pair of the shortest denim shorts Bellamy thinks he has every seen. Clarke doesn't mess around. 

She looks over at Bellamy to see he's awake and gives him a grin. "You awake?" 

Bellamy sits up and rubs his eyes. "Barely."  Clarke fiddles with her nightstand and pulls out a small white baggy. "You wanna be more awake?" 

Bellamy straightens up even more. "Is that crack?!" 

Clarke giggles. "Of course." She pours some out on the stand and after chopping it up a bit, takes a hit. "Want some?" 

Bellamy reaches for his clothes. "Uh, no thanks." Clarke shrugs nonchalantly. "More for me." She takes another hit and then rubs her nose. She runs a hand through her hair and then approaches Bellamy, laying a hand on Bellamy's chest. 

"So, what do you want to do today? I was thinking maybe we could take LSD and go to the Met, that'd be rad, right?" 

Bellamy suddenly feels like he is very much out of his element. Clarke is clearly much more of a party-er than he thought. Drugs during the day time? Does she even have a job? Speaking of jobs, Bellamy looks at his watch. "I actually have to be at work in a couple hours at 2:00, so maybe no drugs?" 

Clarke pouts, but her frown quickly turns into a smile. "That's okay. Another time." In a moment, she climbs on top of him, and grabs his cock through the sheets. "How about another round?" 

Bellamy can feel himself getting aroused and damn, last night was amazing, so he's not going to say no. He grabs Clarke's breasts under her shirt, and leans forward to kiss her. She grabs Bellamy's jawline as she starts grinding her hips along him. "Grab a condom," she says in between breaths. 

Bellamy is grabbing the handle of Clarke's night stand when he hears the door slam. 

"Clarke, you here?" A distinctly masculine, and unhappy voice calls out. 

Bellamy pulls away from Clarke as she hops off him, with a sigh. "Who the fuck is here?" Bellamy whispers hurriedly. Clarke rolls her eyes. "It's probably my stepdad." 

Bellamy pulls the covers around him in efforts to conceal himself - and his boner. "Why the fuck is your stepdad here?" Clarke shrugs. "Probably cause he lives here." 

In retrospect, Bellamy should have realized that it was weird that he thought Clarke lived in this entire mansion by herself, but last not he was not completely sober and he was simply amazed by the fact that he got to fuck Clarke in the first place. 

"I know it's kinda weird for a 22 year old to be living at home, especially cause we have money, but my parents feel safer if I live with them." Clarke opens her door. "I'm in my room, Marcus." 

Bellamy quickly stands up and gathers his clothes. "Jesus, couldn't give me a chance to get dressed?" Clarke shrugs. "Sorry." Bellamy frantically tries to put on his pants as he hears Marcus walk up the steps. Jesus, he didn't want to meet the infamous mob boss at all, let alone half naked. 

He only has the chance to slip one leg in before a strong hand pushes open the door to Clarke's room. "Your mom got bagel - oh, I didn't realize you were with someone." Marcus Kane says as he steps through the door. He doesn't look as intimidating as Bellamy thought he would, wearing a simple grey sweater and a pair of loafers. 

"It's alright Marcus." Clarke says sweetly, as Marcus takes a step forward toward Bellamy. "And who might you be?" Loafers aside, Bellamy now sees why Marcus might the most powerful man in the city. Marcus gives him a once over and takes in his disheveled appearance and gives him a menacing look. 

Bellamy decides to reach out his hand. Better to be polite, right? That's what his mom always taught him. "Bellamy, Bellamy Blake." Marcus doesn't take it, but looks back to Clarke. "He's not a part of any gang, don't worry. He's clean."

Marcus squints at him again, but nods. "Alright, just be careful." With that, he exits the room, and Clarke closes the door behind him. 

 

"Sorry about that." She says as she pulls him to sit back on the bed. "I would say he's not usually like that, but he is. Marcus is always afraid that someone is going to hurt me, or try to hurt him. He thinks he's always under attack." She rolls her eyes and takes a hit of coke. "Now, can we get back to where we were?" 

**Author's Note:**

> This idea just sort of came to me, so let me know what you think! 
> 
> xx


End file.
